A Tremor of the Hand
by His Majesty the Emperor
Summary: Grand Moff Tarkin is on the warpath. Aresko and Grint are dead. And Minister Maketh Tua finds herself wondering what just happened and what it all means.
1. Reservations

**It has been a very long time since I actually wrote something on fanfiction, so I wrote this in a fit of inspiration. This oneshot takes place during the Rebels episode Call to Action. I don't own Star Wars. That would be the Mouse. If I did I'd be rich. Do I look rich to you? I thought not. I hope you enjoy! And Please leave a Review!**

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The office was cold, metallic, and spartan, the epitome of Imperial functionality. Everything was well within regulation. There was a place for everything and for everything a place. But for the first time in living memory the occupant of the office felt that she possessed something that had no place. The memories and the emotions which they elicited were unwanted and yet they remained.

The stench of burning flesh still affronted her nostrils.

It had been hours, and yet the smell continued to linger. For what felt like the thousandth time that day Minister Maketh Tua felt herself take a deep breath as she tried in vain to push the memory to the back of her mind and from there completely out of recollection. But the smell continued to haunt her, and the smell naturally brought the memories rushing to the forefront. Tremors rattled through her left hand, and not for the first time she cursed her weakness.

Looking back she had been somewhat surprised at the lack of blood. Then again it had been a lightsaber that had done the deed, hadn't it? Energy blades like that cauterize the very wound which they create.

Perhaps plasma makes up for this lack of blood with the smell. There is something particularly nauseating about the stench of burning human flesh that really drives the point across. Perhaps that is what the Grand Moff had in mind.

How could he be so…detached from it all? How could any person be so numb to such brutality?

The worst part had been watching the blade slowly cut through their necks. It had only taken a few seconds for the Inquisitor to sever their heads, but he had been just slow enough to ensure that they felt the blade blister and break the skin on the back of their necks.

Her hand was still shaking.

The meeting had ended shortly after the Grand Moff had finished giving them his marching orders. It had taken about a minute or two afterwards for someone to clean up the bodies. By this point the Inquisitor and Tarkin had already left, as had Agent Kallus, quick to follow Tarkin's orders and make up for his previous failings. But the good Governor had not been kind enough to give Maketh any immediate orders regarding the capture of the Rebels.

And so she had been left alone for a minute, a minute which at the time seemed to stretch into eternity as her gaze was drawn inexorably to the severed heads of Miles Grint and Cumberlayne Aresko. Aresko's dead eyes gazed up at the ceiling, his face contorted into a look of pain and surprise. The Minister idly thought that she'd have to find a new Commandant to replace him at the Imperial Academy.

She had never really liked Aresko. While he was certainly smarter than Taskmaster Grint he had certainly not been the most intelligent man she had ever met. He had proven himself to be a pompous and unlikable buffoon.

But was it really fair to have him killed and then disposed of like garbage? He and Grint had been instructors at the Academy for heaven's sakes! While they were trained for front line duty she doubted that they would have the skills necessary for sustained anti-terrorist operations. Surely Governor Tarkin would recognize that?

The Minister permitted herself to take another deep, cleansing breath. And her hand still shook. Of course he knew that. He just didn't care. Failure was failure whether you were trained to handle the situation or not. The Rebels had slipped through their fingers on more occasions than anyone could count now. Such repeated failures had to be punished. She understood that.

But death? Surely a demotion would have sufficed. Reassignment to a lesser post, even dishonorable discharge would have been understandable. But summary execution? Something about that just didn't sit right with her.

The Minister was no stranger to cruelty. One did not become an important Imperial official by playing nice. She had forged alliances with powerful benefactors and broken those alliances just as easily when it suited her. She had been one of the first on Lothal to offer her full hearted support for the Empire when they had first established their military presence on her homeworld. The Empire could never have entrenched themselves so thoroughly on Lothal without her help.

She prided herself on her strength. She was not some dainty princess living in a palace. She was someone who actually worked for a living. And yet her hand continued to shake. She allowed her frustration to grow, hoping that, as in the past her anger would now give her focus and permit her to control her nerves.

With nothing but her own wits and ingenuity at her disposal Tua had managed to climb the social ladder to a level of respectability as the second most powerful woman on Lothal, just beneath the Imperial Planetary Governor herself, Arihnda Pryce.

The Governor…bah! She was hardly ever there to begin with. Once again Maketh felt her ire rise. She didn't deserve Tarkin's contempt. Governor Pryce was always flying off on some mission, hobnobbing with the Emperor on Coruscant or chatting up some Moff at a conference on the other side of the galaxy, leaving lowly Minister Tua as the de facto leader of the Imperial regime on Lothal.

"All of the responsibilities, none of the rewards or recognition." She murmured to herself.

She had stepped on a few people on her way to the top, she could never deny that. But it was only politics. A few careers might have been ruined, but nobody had been killed. Besides, it was only natural that the best should rise to the top. And she was the best, she told herself. After all, hadn't she graduated at the top of her class at the Academy? Hadn't she taken her little backwater of a world from the depths of depression and brought her people into a new age of prosperity almost single handedly? A few farmers and small businessmen might have been inconvenienced here and there, but it was all for the greater good.

So she told herself.

Shouldn't the Grand Moff have realized that she didn't deserve the blame for all of this? No, Pryce got all of the credit for her hard work while Minister Tua got all the blame. And those damned Rebels hadn't helped. They had been a constant thorn in her side for months, disrupting her plans, undermining her authority.

Making her look like a fool.

She seethed and raged at how idiotic they made her look. They flouted the law, sowed chaos and reaped disorder wherever they went. And who had to clean it up and restore the peace afterwards? Why, Minister Maketh Tua of course.

The Inquisitor was too busy hunting for the Jedi while Kallus plotted and schemed against the rest of the Rebels, but SHE was the one who had to keep word from spreading to the public of the Rebels' misadventures. It was she who had to rebuild everything the Rebels destroyed. It was she who had to make do with the supply shortages the Rebels caused every time they raided an Imperial convoy in order to keep the planet running. And it was she who had to keep a lid on the social upheaval that was slowly spreading across Lothal like a virus despite her best efforts.

She had done her best. But she wasn't in the military. She was a government official. She had never dreamed that she would ever be in a position where she would be forced to hunt down insurgents. She didn't have the training for it. And now her mind was haunted by the deaths of Grint and Aresko, knowing that she was next in line for her perceived failings.

"It isn't fair." She whispered to herself as she stared out the window of her office at the high rises of Capital City.

"Few things in this galaxy are fair Minister. I suggest that you get used to that."

The Minister turned in her chair towards the door. Agent Kallus stood in the doorway, ramrod and proper as always.

For a moment a look of surprise alighted on the Minister's face, only to be quickly suppressed by a mask of cool professionalism.

And yet her hand continued to tremble.

"Agent Kallus, is there any news on the insurgents?"

Kallus nodded. "I've just returned from a meeting with the Governor. One of our probe droids spotted the Rebels near the main Communication Tower."

Minister Tua permitted a small amount of surprise to appear in her expression.

"Do you think they are planning to destroy it?" she asked.

Kallus approached her desk and moved to sit down in a vacant chair across from her.

"I'm not sure. Governor Tarkin plans to lure the Rebels into a trap, utilizing the Communications Tower as bait." He said. The ISB agent leaned forward and lowered his voice.

"We cannot afford any more mistakes Minister. The security of the Empire may very well rest on our ability to bring this Rebel cell down in the next 48 hours."

"We both know the consequences of failure." The Minister responded.

Kallus nodded briefly, his eyes flickering to notice the movement of her hand.

"Are you all right Minister?" He asked.

Maketh noted his line of sight to her hand and quickly moved it out of view.

"I'm quite fine Agent Kallus." She stated; her voice clipped and angry. She didn't dare look him in the eye.

Kallus leaned back and folded his arms over his chest.

"Was that your first execution?" He asked.

For a moment there was a brief pause. Then she nodded.

"You're afraid." Kallus surmised.

The Minister practically leapt from her chair, her face contorted in anger.

"Afraid?! Agent Kallus, you presume too much! You are addressing a Minister of His Majesty's Government, not some petty schoolgirl."

Kallus grimaced, adopting the same look he always developed when it came to dealing with Minister Tua, that of long sufferance.

"Apologies Minister," He offered. "but it is a natural emotion to experience, given the circumstances."

Maketh deflated slightly and slid back into her chair. She sighed again, clutching her trembling hand with the other.

"As I recall you yourself were unnerved by the experience." She said.

Kallus nodded. "I was unnerved by the demonstration because I knew that the Governor's patience had rightfully expired. I admit freely that my attempts thus far to bring the Rebels to justice have not come to fruition. Continued failure ensures that my life is forfeit. I am cognizant that continued failure is no longer permissible. But you Minister, your reaction was different. You weren't just worried about your own fate as I was. You were sincerely horrified by the execution."

Kallus narrowed his eyes, as if Maketh were some sort of mysterious puzzle he was trying to solve.

"Why?" He asked.

That question floored the Minister. Why? _Why?_

"Why?" she repeated. "Why wouldn't it disturb me, or anyone else for that matter? Grint and Aresko might have been incompetent, but surely no officer of the Empire deserves such a fate." She reasoned.

"Their repeated failures were so monumental and so idiotic that they besmirched the uniforms they wore. Killing them removed the black stain they had placed upon the Empire's honor." Kallus retorted.

"They were Imperial officers…they were on our side…" Maketh tried to reason.

"Grint and Aresko were as clumsy as they were stupid." Kallus quickly fired back. "Their gross negligence was a drain upon Imperial resources. Removing them could only benefit the Empire."

"Removing them, yes." The Minister said. "But to kill them in such a brutal and painful manner…"

"Incompetent officers are executed all the time Minister." Kallus answered. "Their deaths serve to galvanize their subordinates and superiors and insure that they do not repeat the same mistakes. I myself have partaken in several such executions."

Tua stared at him. Her eyes appeared to almost glaze over. The tremors in her hand worsened.

"I thought that the stories about officer executions were just…well…stories told by enemies of the Empire to tarnish our good name."

Kallus offered a small smirk. "If I might say, it seems that you've gone out of your way to keep yourself ignorant of the greater galaxy outside of Lothal."

"Excuse me?!" She asked, outraged by his assertion and blatant disrespect. It didn't really matter. A part of her knew that, while she might technically outrank him as a government minister, the reality was that, as an agent of the Imperial Security Bureau Kallus was effectively above the law and thus above her. He could be polite and respectful to her when it suited him, but the reality of the situation was that in their working relationship Kallus had all the cards.

She hated that fact.

_She also feared it._

As soon as that thought entered into her mind she moved quickly to suppress it.

Kallus continued. "We live in a dark and dangerous universe Minister. Stern words and half-hearted measures will only take us so far. If the Empire is to maintain its supremacy over the galaxy it must prove its strength. Fools like Aresko and Grint hold us all back by making our Empire look weak. Killing them and fools like them reasserts our authority."

"I still believe that it is excessive." Minister Tua responded.

Kallus rolled his eyes. "In the service of our Empire I have found that one can never utilize enough force to bring about the Emperor's objectives."

The Butcher of Lasan would say that, Maketh thought. But she wisely never said a word.

"I love the Empire, Agent Kallus." Minister Tua said. It was always good to remind a loyalty officer like Kallus of such things now and again, especially when one was expressing doubts over an issue that was apparently official policy. "I love the Empire because I believe it brings light to the darkness and creates civilization where there would only be wilderness. The Empire gives us order and security, and of that I am glad. But such blatant injustices only work to strengthen our enemies by giving them fuel for their rhetoric."

Kallus had a face of stone as he looked at her. "Are you questioning the Governor's judgment Minister, or are you questioning Imperial policy?"

Minister Tua bristled. "Have a care Agent Kallus. You are addressing a patriot. I have spent my entire adult life in the service of our Empire, and in that time my work has been exemplary."

"Aside from the work pertaining the Rebels." He noted.

"The last time I checked Agent Kallus that was your department, along with the Inquisitor."

His expression soured noticeably. "We are both tarred by the same brush Minister. The Governor is displeased with us both."

He paused and looked again to her trembling hand.

"You were always afraid Minister. Only now have you allowed yourself to reveal your feelings."

"I beg your pardon?" She asked, outraged at his impudence and yet still blushing at his declaration.

Kallus gave a conceited grin. "You have great ambition Minister, but you are limited by your experiences. You have seen little of the greater galaxy and you have done less to comprehend our ways. You do your best to ignore the distasteful little deeds that men such as I must perform in order to uphold the Emperor's just rule. Despite all of your enthusiasm for the Empire and all of your vitriol against the Rebels, which I know beyond all doubt to be genuine, you cannot stomach men like me.

"The Inquisitor and I are something new to a world like Lothal, men who do what is necessary by any means to ensure the Empire's security. We are the type of men you hear about, but rarely, if ever, have the opportunity to meet."

Kallus paused to raise his arm, showing Maketh his gloved hand curled into a fist.

"They aren't kid gloves Minister, and the fist beneath the glove is one of iron. Never fool yourself. We fight against anarchy and insanity. The Rebels would return us to the incompetence of the Old Republic, and I will never permit that to happen so long as I draw breath."

The Minister remained silent for a moment, deep in thought, before responding.

"And what of those sacrificed?" She asked.

"The foundation must be built on something." Kallus responded.

"Is that all men like Aresko and Grint are?" Minister Tua asked. "Slabs of durracrete packed together to prop the Empire up?"

"They are whatever the Empire needed them to be." Kallus concluded. The ISB agent rose from his chair.

"As much as I enjoy our discussions Minister I must now be off. The Rebels will soon be ours and I intend to deliver the Jedi to the Governor." Kallus turned to leave. He paused halfway out of the office. He didn't turn back to look at her. Instead he said simply.

"You've gotten this far because you are an intelligent woman Minister. I respect your skills as a politician, but if you continue to restrain yourself and turn a blind eye to how this Empire is maintained then I fear you will be next on Governor Tarkin's list."

"You would have me abandon my conscience to become as unfettered as you?" She inquired.

At this Kallus chuckled. "Men like I are the rule in this Empire Minister, not the exception. To survive one must be as ruthless as his colleagues. You've shown that you have that potential."

Kallus turned back to look at her.

"As for a conscience Minister, a conscience is simply a luxury we cannot afford. As I recall the Jedi were beings of conscience who refused to unleash their full potential. Look what became of them."

And with that he was gone.

Maketh turned to her desk, her mind swimming with details, factors, and considerations. On her desk lay requisition files, proposals and memos that needed her attention. For the first time in her life she felt as though the beating of her heart was no longer in step with the Empire she had always loved.

She was no saint, she knew this to be true. She had done some less than noble deeds in the past. But it had all been for the greater good of Lothal and the Empire. Hadn't it? But from a certain point of view the same could be said of the actions of men like Governor Tarkin and Agent Kallus. What then was the difference between them? Was there any? Was there some line separating their actions, with one side being acceptable and the other being morally wrong? If so, where?

For the first time in her life Minister Maketh Tua found herself without a clear cut answer to the problem which questioned her. In the end she was an average bureaucrat. She had never expected or trained for an eventuality like this. Jedi, Rebels, and Grand Moffs all bearing down on her from different directions were almost too much to bear.

She was in way over her head, and she knew it.

Under siege from all sides, under appreciated by her allies, outwitted by her enemies and saddled with the unpleasant task of running the day to day operations of a regime she once held as sacrosanct but now quietly questioned, Maketh Tua allowed herself to experience the one emotion she had always felt when in the presence of Kallus, the Inquisitor, and Governor Tarkin, but never permitted to control her.

Fear: pure, undiluted terror. Her next mistake might very well be her last.

The tremor in her hand grew worse still.


	2. Between a Rock and a Hard Place

**Having watched The Siege of Lothal, I've decided to make a few addendums to this story in order to give a proper conclusion to Minister Tua's character arc. I plan on writing three additional chapters, including this one, in order to see this episode's events from the vantage point of a character who, while minor in the grand scheme of things, was nevertheless a fascinating insight into the average people who supported the Empire and, by extension, made Emperor Palpatine's stranglehold over the galaxy possible.**

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The Inquisitor was dead.

It did not seem possible, and yet this simple fact could not be denied. He had seemed, in a way, indestructible, an apex predator of impeccable cunning. Lothal had come to fear him as the personification of Imperial might. And now he was dead, vaporized aboard Governor Tarkin's own flagship, which in turn had been blown to pieces by the Rebels.

The flagship of the Governor of the Outer Rim, blown to smithereens by a rag tag band of insurgents from a backwater world few had even heard of. Add onto this the death of a high ranking Imperial operative, and one found themselves a recipe for a disaster.

One would be hard pressed to find a more spectacular catastrophe than the one that had transpired over Mustafar.

Rumors spread of the incident over Mustafar like wildfire. Across Lothal resentment and discontent bubbled over into anger and open defiance of the regime. Emboldened by this perception of Imperial weakness, the people had found within themselves the nerve to voice dissent. Public order was becoming more difficult to maintain, and rumors of a general strike threatened to close the factories and cripple Lothal's industrial output.

Throughout Capital City the Empire found itself stretched to the limit. Stormtroopers reported citizens harassing them in the streets, jeering and booing as they went about their patrols. Anti-Imperial graffiti began to spring up all over the city, and rumors of a public protest against the Imperial occupation percolated from the Capital to Jolath.

How _convenient _that Governor Pryce was still offworld, and thus unable to handle the situation.

For what felt like the thousandth time Minister Tua mentally cursed the Governor's absence. By abandoning the world she had been charged to reign over, Pryce had ensured that Tua would face the brunt of the Empire's displeasure regarding the Rebels and their activities.

Displeasure; a mild word to describe the seething rage which animated Agent Kallus and Governor Tarkin alike.

Theirs was a cold anger, an anger which was not prone to violent outbursts or raised tones of voice. No, their rage was restrained, calculating, and without mercy. Once given a suitable target to vent their anger, men like Kallus and Tarkin would utilize every scrap of cunning they possessed to exact revenge and cleanse themselves of the blinding rage which filled their bodies and minds to the brim. Such anger made men restless.

Before the Minister Agent Kallus paced back and forth, the cold fury of an ISB operative driving him hither and yon like a caged zoo animal longing for the freedom to pounce, to tear, to bite.

Maketh no longer cared for Kallus and his demands, nor did she fear to argue with him. Her head felt as though a thousand spikes were being forcibly drilled into her skull. She had not slept in days. Reports came in hourly of new delays, of slowdowns, sit ins, and above all, rumors of insurrection. The mood on Lothal had turned ugly, and Minister Tua felt that she alone was fighting to stem the tide of rebellious thought.

It was a losing battle. She knew it.

She was tired. She was overworked and overwhelmed. Her nerves were frayed to the breaking point, and above all, despite copious amounts of medication, her damned hand continued to shake.

Her superiors could only push her so far.

"Agent Kallus," she snapped, "I've exhausted every resource to find information about the Rebels, but there is nothing to be found!"

It was maddening! The Empire had spent billions of credits on propaganda, social engineering and indoctrination techniques to win the people's support. And yet, in the span of a few short months 5 rebels and an obsolete astromech had managed to win over the people's unconditional support while painting the Empire as incompetent and repressive. Every being interviewed said the exact same thing. No one knew the Rebels, no one had ever given them aid, and no one was willing to deliver them over to the authorities.

"What more does Governor Tarkin expect?!" The Minister demanded. She did not even bother to hide her frustration. A part of her wondered who she was frustrated with. The Rebels, obviously, for creating this disaster, but a not too small amount of her umbrage found itself being directed towards Tarkin and Kallus.

Did they sincerely believe that she could simply snap her fingers and bring about a resolution to this debacle? She couldn't, she was only mortal. And tired. So very tired.

Tired, frustrated, and afraid.

Before she could ponder this last thought fully Kallus broke his stride mid pace and turned to glare at her. Evidently he was just as frustrated as she was, albeit for different reasons.

"He expects Lothal to be punished Minister Tua." Kallus growled. "His own Star Destroyer was demolished by these Rebels. He takes that somewhat…personally."

Maketh suppressed a shudder. Tarkin was a consummate professional. The minutiae of life was merely business to him, impersonal, practical business to be accomplished without fuss or delay. But there were rumors, legends even, of what happened on the rare occasions when the Grand Moff took matters personally.

Years ago, so the rumors claimed, an officer had joked that one of the Governor's protégé's had gotten her position of power by sleeping with him, and that the Governor himself was a lecherous cretin incapable of bedding a woman without utilizing the power of his office to entice her. The officer in question had been found, beaten, stuffed into a spacesuit and then tossed out an airlock into a decaying orbit around a star with a limited supply of oxygen.

Some versions of the tale even went on to claim that the suit had a built in comlink, and that the Governor had allowed the man's curses, wails, and pleas for mercy be broadcast to every soldier and crewman under Tarkin's command. Some say the fool was burned alive. Others say he suffocated. Either way it was irrelevant. No one who might have been there to corroborate this tale dared to discuss it, let alone confirm that the events had taken place, and for a time Tua had dismissed it as errant nonsense.

Now, she suspected that there was a granule of truth to this story after all. It did not bode well for her.

Despite the ISB agent's less than veiled threat, Tua allowed her vexation to build.

"I've doubled patrols, set up checkpoints, established curfews, I honestly don't know what else to do!" She said, collapsing into her chair in apparent defeat, having listed everything she was physically capable of doing. There _was_ nothing else. She had used every available resource to track the rebels down and calm the public.

**"Perhaps that is the problem."**

Her frustrations fell away, her blood ran cold, and for a moment, the little girl who had been frightened by her grandfather's old ghost stories blossomed deep within the Minister's increasingly pale and shaking form.

An obsidian specter hung before her, its masklike face contorted in a sneering scowl.

The Lord Darth Vader, the Empire's Supreme Commander, the Emperor's personal envoy, looked down upon lowly Maketh Tua, and though she could not see the mutilated flesh beneath the mask, she instinctively knew that this hulking monstrosity held her in abject contempt for her perceived failures.

**"You lack imagination Minister,"** Vader declared. **"when it comes to producing results."**

With this declaration Vader swept into the room, bearing down upon the Minister like a Nexu advances upon its prey. And all the while, that accursed breathing filled the room with dread!

Some fools declared that Vader was nothing more than an advanced droid, but Maketh knew better. This awful rhythm was the steady intake of breath, upon which all organic life depended. But it was unlike any breathing she had ever heard, or even felt!

By the stars! It was as if the triangular grate of Vader's mask was a black hole which absorbed warmth from the room with every inhalation. With every exhale a subarctic blast hissed outwards to fill the void left by the warmth which Vader absorbed and negated.

She had taken liberties when addressing Agent Kallus, she dared not take liberties when speaking to the man many called Dark Lord.

"Lord Vader," she offered meekly. "with all due respect, you and Governor Tarkin are asking for miracles!"

Maketh did not believe in miracles. Most Imperials didn't. When she had been a child her grandfather had told her many stories. These old legends were filled with miraculous ideas that had turned her head as a girl. She had grown up hearing the tales of Naga Sadow, of Mandalore the Ultimate, of the Prodigal Knight Revan and the ruthless slaver kings of Zygerria. But as she had grown into adulthood she had put such childish thoughts aside. She knew the Jedi were real, but she had never seen one, and as such subconsciously had never really believed that these legends could possibly be true. And besides, imagination was not a prerequisite for duty to the Empire.

However, it was hard to deny these legends when one of them stood before her. For Vader was indeed a legend. Reviled by the Navy's officers, worshipped by the Stormtrooper Corps, Darth Vader had attained a reputation that defied belief.

And yet, despite her visible intimidation the Minister pressed on, if admittedly in a faltering manner. "If the Rebels have left Lothal,"

**"If the Rebels have left," **interrupted Vader. **"Then we must draw them back. And if they are here, then we must draw them out. We will squeeze Lothal until someone reveals the whereabouts of these traitors!"**

That would mean more arrests. Citizens would be tortured. Killed. She might be killed!

Where had the once brazen and confident young Minister gone? In a matter of seconds she had been reduced to a pitiful, meek speck whinging in the face of a vengeful taskmaster. She had spent years building herself into one of the most powerful people on the planet, and yet before her eyes she saw her life's work effortlessly destroyed, not only by the Rebels, but by her own superiors within the Empire itself! How she loathed this degradation. And yet, the fear forbade her from speaking up, from asserting herself. All she could do was cower and plead.

"I'm sorry my Lord, I am merely a public official. I have no experience with such brutal tactics."

Such was the truth. Her life had been spent playing the game of politics. A few individuals may have lost their jobs, some may have even lost their freedom, but none had suffered the loss of life or limb. No one had been tortured on her orders, or seen their loved ones sent off to the mines to die.

A part of her had never believed that these events happened. Not in her Empire! It was so easy to turn a blind eye when such things happened so far away, especially when one such as herself held such a position of authority. But now, as the system came crashing down in front of her, Maketh found her eyes widening at the sight of the Imperial system she had helped to construct.

It was ruthless.

It was repugnant.

It terrified her.

And it was furious with her.

**"You can explain that to Governor Tarkin when you visit him."** Vader responded. As he turned to go a look of horror alighted upon Tua's face as the depths to which she had sunk descended upon her unprepared mind.

"Visit, him?" She asked, haltingly.

**"He expects you tomorrow to account for your _failure_."** Vader answered, his voice dripping with contempt.

This was it. Pure terror sent electrical shocks through her body as her mind went into overdrive. She would be summoned by the Governor, held accountable for what had transpired on Lothal, and would be removed from her post.

That she would then die was a foregone conclusion. A part of her had always known that she was living on borrowed time. Ever since she had stared into Aresko's wide, unblinking eyes as his head lay detached on the floor, she had known.

She could only babble incoherently, stringing together an excuse so hollow, so devoid of merit, that she knew it was hopeless the moment that the words left her mouth.

"But I, I'm needed here!" she pleaded. "I, I couldn't possibly get away!" They couldn't do without her! They could never replace her! Without her the Empire would never have been able to acquire Lothal as it had!

Vader did not even bother to look back at her or even address her as he swept out of her office, his cape trailing in an almost supernatural breeze behind him, but Agent Kallus stopped, turned, and gave her a smile that only sent her heart plummeting.

"Not to worry Minister, Lord Vader and I will manage in your absence." The door closed with a thunderous clang, and the Minister resisted the urge to weep as she fell back into her chair, clasping her head in her hands. The world spun underneath her and she resisted the urge to vomit. It couldn't end like this! Not like this!

How DARE they? How dare they think that she could be discarded like some broken plaything! She had given her life for this Empire.

No, she had given several years of her life. She would not simply lie down and hand her life over to them. She was trapped, yes, but there was still a way out. But time was short.

Time was so very short.

She still had an ace up her sleeve. She had not been exactly truthful when she had told Agent Kallus that she had exhausted every lead in her hunt for the Rebels.

If she played her cards right, yes, yes it might work!

She was halfway out of her chair and across the office before she felt herself freeze.

Had it truly come to this? Was she truly entertaining this notion?

That she should seek out these criminals, and do what, precisely? Beg for their assistance? Bend the knee? Offer them everything she knew? It made her vomitous with loathing to even consider such a disgusting alliance. Where was her loyalty? Where was her patriotism for the Empire?

Under Vader's boot heel, Maketh thought bitterly. She had loved the Empire with all her heart and soul, believing her labors would create a paradise, that she, along with a select elite, were strong enough and smart enough to chart a course into a new golden age.

But then the Rebels had come. They had begun to peel back the layers of society to reveal the rotten cesspit beneath the gleaming façade she had helped to construct. And then Agent Kallus and the Inquisitor had arrived, and with them had come more disillusionment, more revelations.

The Empire, her Empire, was…wrong.

She felt as though a piece of her soul had shuddered and died to admit such a thing. The Empire did not have her best interests at heart. It did not have anyone's best interests at heart, aside from the Emperor and his closest supporters.

In the end, she valued her own life more than the Empire. She knew that the Rebels were far too principled to simply kill her in cold blood should she fall into their clutches. She could either go calmly to her death at Vader's hand, or risk everything on the Rebels and perhaps live to see a new day.

After everything that had happened to her, it was not a hard decision to make. Her hand still shook with what she now admitted was fear, but this would not deter her.

She needed to gather her files. The Rebels would only aid her if she offered them something of value that they could use.

She would need to hurry.

The hour was late, and soon the bell was due to toll.

Would it toll for her?

**Up Next: The Conversation No One Wanted To Have**


	3. Revelations and Conversations

The droning buzz of the holographic screen before her was deafening.

The flow of time seemed to be gushing forth like a torrent. In her haste she had rushed to her computer to gather as much useful information as she could.

A list of potential rebel sympathizers with powerful connections that the High Command had placed under surveillance was quickly compiled, but the Minister knew that this alone would not be enough to entice the rebels.

And so, utilizing some of the hacking skills she had acquired during her days at the Academy, Tua managed to infiltrate the heavily encrypted segments of the Imperial Database.

She was spurred on by rumors regarding the origins of the Imperial occupation. She had overheard whispered conversations between the Inquisitor and Agent Kallus that the Emperor himself had commanded that Lothal be equipped with a large garrison and brought more firmly into the Imperial fold.

She remembered those heady days when the Empire had first arrived. Despite her current disenchantment with the regime Maketh felt herself inexorably drawn towards a sense of nostalgia for what felt like better times. She had been too enamored with her new Ministerial position to seriously consider why the Empire would acquire such a serious interest in her homeworld.

Lothal was a backwater, it always had been. Not as sparsely populated as worlds like Tatooine, but certainly a far cry frown the glimmering spires of Coruscant. She had been more than happy to be part of something new, something exciting, something which promised to raise her and her people up into a grand era of prosperity.

And so she had overlooked the reason why they came in the first place.

The answer hung before her, shimmering and buzzing in a semi-transparent holographic state before unbelieving eyes.

It was an _abomination_.

Lothal was but a piece in a larger puzzle which, when assembled, created an image too impossible, too nauseating to even contemplate. But it was a critical piece, without which the puzzle could not be completed.

The scale of this construction was beyond comprehension.

If she had possessed any reservations, any doubts concerning the justness of the Empire, they quickly turned to ashes.

No moral government could ever condone such an undertaking, let alone willingly utilize such excessive means.

She had once claimed to Vader that she had no experience with the brutal tactics which were the Dark Lord's stock in trade.

Such a device rendered even Vader's depravities mild.

It had all been a lie, she thought, bitterness welling up in the pit of her stomach. She had helped the Imperials secure a world essential to the creation of a monstrosity which undermined everything the Empire claimed to hold dear.

Where this crime against civilization went devastation would flow in its wake. That the Emperor would even consider utilizing such force against his own subjects…

He was mad. The Emperor, Vader, Tarkin, they were absolutely mad!

And they controlled the most powerful army in the galaxy.

She made sure to make a copy of the schematics and quickly copied the files onto a datadisk. Working quickly to cover up any evidence that she had accessed classified files, the Minister exited the Imperial Complex and sped into the night.

Time was shorter than she had expected. As she walked towards her speeder she clasped her hands together, hoping a firm grip from one hand would stop the shaking of the other.

She knew where she had to go.

* * *

Atop the highest level of the Imperial Complex a shadow stood in watch over Capital City. The shadow watched with disinterest as two Star Destroyers hovered over the financial and governmental districts. Search lights attached to the ventral side of the hull swept through the nearly abandoned streets. All appeared peaceful.

The shadow new better

Peace was a lie.

Like insects the denizens of this benighted backwater planet scuttled about, convinced that their actions held a greater meaning, and that they might shift the course of destiny.

They were all fools, weak, deserving only of his contempt. Even now, the Queen of fools on this world sped away towards one of the outlying settlements, convinced that no living soul on Lothal was aware of her activities as she desperately sought to avoid her fate.

Darth Vader allowed her foolishness to fan the flames of his rage. That any living being who encountered him should believe themselves capable of escaping his wrath was the utmost insult to the Sith Lord's considerable ego.

Her fate was sealed. To try and escape was folly.

The door behind him slid open and Agent Kallus stepped into the office without announcement.

Darth Vader did not particularly care for anyone or anything beyond his own goals and the power he sought to acquire. That being said, he disliked Agent Kallus slightly less than the rank and file Imperial operatives The Dark Lord was made to work with.

Kallus was ruthless, ambitious, and above all else, competent. For but a brief moment, the Sith Lord permitted himself to entertain the possibility that in another life, had he been born blind to the Force, Vader might have been delegated to a station and career similar to the one Kallus held today. This idea was quickly crushed and relegated to the back of his mind where all undesirable thoughts were banished. Kallus was an acceptable operative, nothing more. To place additional meaning upon the ISB agent and actually compare himself favorably with the Dark Lord sullied Vader unnecessarily.

Kallus was expendable. Vader was not.

Kallus could not change the course of destiny any more than Minister Tua or any other fool on this wretched planet. Vader could.

As Vader contemplated these ideas Kallus stood stiffly at attention. Having waited an appropriate amount of time Kallus cleared his throat and began to speak.

"I apologize for the interruption My Lord, but I wish to report that there was a breach in security. It appears that someone has accessed the files on the Weapon."

Vader did not turn to acknowledge Kallus, but instead made a point to analyze the flight path of the Star Destroyer which drifted overhead.

**"The Minister has revealed her true intentions."**

"It would appear so." Kallus said. "It is difficult, however, to believe that she might be willing to defect. She appeared to be staunchly loyal."

**"It is easy to proclaim loyalty to an institution when one's position is secured." **Said Vader. **"External pressure and trying circumstances alone are capable of revealing whether one is truly devoted to a cause. The Minister's enthusiasm for her duties was superficial. Her actions prove this."**

"What are your commands? Shall I have the Stormtroopers intercept her speeder?"

**"No. Permit her to pass through the city gates. She will attempt to contact the Rebels. Their misplaced morality will compel them to save her."**

"Very well then My Lord." Kallus bowed his head and turned to leave. But he paused as the Dark Lord spoke again.

**"Ensure that the Minister's shuttle receives the necessary supplies she will require for her voyage."**

Kallus allowed his lips to peel back into a grin, the same grin he'd felt on his face when he'd received the Ion Disruptors on Lasan.

"It will be done."

* * *

"Look lady, I don't care if you are the living embodiment of the Mother Jungle* herself, I don't have anything for you."

The lights in the cantina were dimmed. It was well after closing time, but Tua had known that the owner of the bar, known by locals as Old Jho, would still be at the cantina cleaning up and getting ready for the next day's business. The old Ithorian was well known for his anti-Imperial sentiment, but ISB had long ago concluded that he was a harmless crank, and so did not bother to arrest him. One aging alien wasn't going to cause much trouble.

Minister Tua leaned in on the cantina's bar. Jho had turned away, reached for a used mug and was in the process of wiping it down with a clean rag. Maketh's hand was still shaking. She didn't even bother trying to hide it anymore.

There had been a time not so long ago when she would have looked down her nose in derision at someone like Jho. She had been on the fast track to wealth and success by then, and visions of glory had clouded her vision. She had sneered at men like Jho, the average person struggling to make a living. Now here she was, ready to beg him for anything that might offer her a glimmer of salvation.

How the mighty had fallen.

"Please, I know that your establishment is a haven for beings with anti-Imperial sentiment, you have to have had some contact with the Rebels."

"You're mistaken Minister, Old Jho's Pit Stop has always been a _loyal_ establishment. I don't know a thing about any rebels, let alone where to find them." Jho said, his translated voice betraying a tinge of sarcasm when enunciating the word loyal.

Maketh felt her desperation get worse. "Look, I'm not here to cause trouble. If I was here to arrest you I would have come with a squad of stormtroopers. I'm here of my own volition! I need help!"

Old Jho sniffed derisively and turned back to Tua, setting the rag and the mug on the bar. "So, the great and powerful Minister Tua needs my help? You always seemed to think you knew better than anybody else. If you're as smart as you think you are, why don't you get yourself out of trouble?"

She pulled away slightly, stung by his criticism. Nonetheless she nodded.

"Yes, yes I was arrogant, I know! But Governor Tarkin is convinced I've failed him! I'm going to die if I can't find a way off world! The Rebels may be my only hope!

Jho sighed, noting the desperation on the Minister's face. Jho hated the Empire with good reason. He'd seen the Imperials step on too many good people in the last fifteen years. His own people had been subjugated by the Empire, his leaders executed and replaced with some human Governor who could barely tolerate the "hammerheads" as he called them. The Empire and the people who ran it were scum, and Jho wanted nothing to do with them. But Jho was a good man, and he could not in good conscience turn away someone who was so obviously desperate.

The Minister would not approach him alone unless she was truly in danger. There was only one ethical choice, and Jho knew it.

"I can't promise you anything Minister." He said, walking over to a holographic projector. "But if you are truly desperate, I may be able to provide some small amount of assistance." Jho punched in a code on the communicator's keypad, and for an agonizing long few moments they waited.

No hologram came to life from the projector, but over the audio feed the voice of a young man exclaimed, "Hey, it's Old Jho!"

The Bridger boy, Maketh surmised, utilizing a one way transmission. Her estimation of the Rebels begrudgingly increased slightly. They would see her and the Ithorian, but she could not see them. Wherever they were must have been a deeply guarded secret, if they did not wish her to see it over even a secure channel.

"I can't see you," Jho said. "But I can hear you my friends. Time is short. There's someone here desperate to speak with you. I told her I couldn't find you, but she wouldn't take no for answer. She says she needs your help."

"We're always ready to help someone in need!" a male voice, the Jedi Jarrus proclaimed.

"Yeah, well, this one's different." Jho said. The Minister took this as her cue to step forward. For the briefest moment she considered just walking out and going to her death. This was the ultimate humiliation, to seek succor from the people who had ruined her life. But the Rebels had never tried to kill her. She could be a strong ally if she made herself useful. Maybe she could still have a future after all.

"Minister Tua?!" A female voice exclaimed. Maketh wasn't entirely sure which Rebel this one was. Perhaps the Twi'lek.

"We can't trust her! She's an Imperial!" Said the Lasat. She had to act quickly before he convinced the others to deny her request.

"Please, I beg you! Listen to my request."

"End transmission now Chop." Jarrus ordered.

"Wait." The Twi'lek interceded. Maketh mentally thanked the powers that be for the Twi'leks. "Minister, what do you want?" she asked.

"My life is in danger. I need you to give me safe passage of Lothal." The Minister asked, her hands clasped together in supplication, all traces of her self important nature forgotten in the heat of the moment.

"You're not really considering this." The Lasat quipped. It was easy for him to joke and scold. His life wasn't in danger, Maketh thought.

"Quiet!" The Twi'lek ordered.

"I assure you my intentions are sincere. To prove it I will trade secret Imperial information."

It was the Mandalorian girl's turn now to speak. "You're defecting from the Empire?" she asked incredulously.

Defection. There it was. She hadn't openly used the word, or even given it thought. The last few days had been given over to endless worry and fear. Aresko, Grint and the Inquisitor were dead. She knew that between herself and Agent Kallus she was next to die, one way or the other. She had been loyal to the Empire for years, only to see her loyalty betrayed as her superiors were exposed for the murderous sociopaths they were. She was an expendable cog in the machine. That was all they saw her as. Not as a fellow intellectual or comrade, but as a tool.

The word defection was not a part of her verbal repertoire. It was an alien concept, foreign and hateful. And yet, reality stared into her very soul and proclaimed that she was a traitor and a defector.

Her body shuddered at this last defeat. Her fall from grace was nearly complete.

"Yes, I am." she whispered.

"She's telling the truth, I can sense her fear." The Jedi apprentice said. Maketh allowed hope to rise slightly. The boy was sympathetic to her plight.

"Yeah, but of what?" Jarrus asked. The Minister did not answer that question, but the memory of a flashing red saber and two severed heads on her office floor sprung to mind. Another memory of the schematics she had uncovered in the Imperial database and how Lothal played into them sent a jab of dread into her psyche. The Emperor's plans were monstrous.

"What do you have to trade?" The Twi'lek woman asked.

"A list of rebel sympathizers on Lothal and other nearby systems." The Minister said, exhaustion percolating with every articulation. She was so tired. And so close.

"How come these sympathizers haven't been arrested?" a new voice asked, his identity a total mystery to the Minister.

"Some have powerful friends in the Senate." The Minister answered. "Imperial Command watches them but can do nothing. I know you need allies. Get me off Lothal and I will give you the list."

"We shouldn't even consider this."

"It's obviously a trap."

What little hope she had sank like a rock. The list wouldn't be enough to entice them. Desperation forced her to play the Idiot's Array in her hand of Sabacc.

"There is something else. I've discovered the true reason the Empire came to Lothal."

"We know that one." The Twi'lek declared. "The Empire has a factory and they're stripping the planet's resources to fuel it."

That was the official reason. And it was indeed a most profitable enterprise. But it was merely a front to divert attention away from the real reason Sheev Palpatine had dug his claws into a world that had gone unnoticed by the greater galaxy in centuries past.

"No," she whispered, her mind overcome by the horror she had felt as she had read the technical diagrams for a weapon so despicable that even the ancient Sith Lords from her grandfather's stories would not have fallen to using it. "There is another reason. Known only to a few, and ordered by the Emperor himself."

The voices conferred with one another, but after several seconds of discreet argument, it was the Jedi apprentice who declared, "We have to do this."

Quietly, in some cases reluctantly, the other rebels acceded to her request. Hope, that damned but blessed thorn in her side once again flared within her. She was nearing the end of this terrible odyssey. As they asked her to send her coordinates, she was overcome with emotion.

For months on end she had chased them all across Lothal, denounced them as criminals, and demanded their imprisonment and execution. If their roles had been reversed Maketh had no doubt that she would likely have left the Rebels to hang. All she could do was whisper a relieved "Thank you." as the transmission cut out.

In a daze Minister Tua stepped out of the Ithorian's cantina, thanking him for all of his help. Old Jho didn't say a thing, but watched her go. He never thought the day would come when he actually felt bad for an Imperial. And yet here he was, and there she was getting into her speeder, a nervous wreck, a pale shadow of the self confident super-woman she'd portrayed herself as on the HoloNet.

A part of Jho wondered if he'd ever see the Rebels again, but Jho instinctively knew that he'd never lay eyes on Maketh Tua again while she still breathed.

"Poor woman." He muttered as he picked up a rag and began wiping down the counter. "She doesn't stand a chance."

* * *

**Up Next: The Final Stretch**

* * *

*The goddess of the Ithorian religion.


	4. Ambition's Debt

The sky was yellow that night, thick and clouded with pollution. Oily grey clouds lingered above her head, belched from the smoke stacks of the factories which were slowly choking her world to death.

When she had been younger the skies of Capital City had been much clearer. One could often see the glittering constellations overhead. Those gorgeous jewels, the scintillating stars which comprised the galaxy, had been the subject of young Maketh's fascination since her earliest days.

Her grandfather had been a spacer, the captain of an old Corellian bulk freighter that would travel up and down the Hydian Way from Bonadan to Imynusoph and a thousand worlds in between. He had experienced enough adventures in his travels to fill up a dozen lifetimes, and as a child she had adored his stories of far off worlds.

But it was not his stories of close encounters with pirates and bounty hunters which intrigued her most. No, it was his tales about the vaunted Core Worlds which attracted her attention. To think that her grandfather, a man of modest means from the Outer Rim Territories should live and work on worlds as prestigious as Alderaan or even Coruscant! To have his ship chartered by Senators, Prime Ministers, Presidents, even Kings! How she had longed to travel to the center of galactic power, and perhaps even one day assume a position of authority herself.

Her mother had complained that the old man's stories were filling the child's head with nonsense, but instead these tails of opulence and opportunity gave the young Tua the drive she needed to succeed. She found herself horribly disappointed with her parents, who were dismally uninteresting people of unassuming backgrounds and moderate tastes, apathetic to the ongoing events which shaped the galaxy. She had detested their lack of vision, and, as most teenagers did, rebelled against her parents by becoming their exact opposite.

This quickly led her to pursue a more cosmopolitan and ambitious lifestyle. Slowly but surely she had managed to ascend up the social ladder, eschewing her humble background and the beings of her former class, who she now considered to be nothing more than slack-jawed fools, good for nothing other than to be led by an intelligent, sophisticated elite.

In other words, by people like her.

The Empire would help her attain a better social standing for herself. Who knew, maybe one day she would be recognized by a Moff for her prestigious work and be promoted to Governor! And then...who knew? Anything was possible. Perhaps, she dreamed, she might one day ascend to the rank of Moff herself!

Moff Tua.

No. _Grand _Moff Tua. Now that had a certain ring to it.

Such lofty ambitions now tasted like bitter ashes to her.

The stars were gone now, hidden behind a veil of light pollution and smog. And with those stars a distant memory, so too were her hopes for greater glory. The Empire had been a gift from beyond at first, allowing her the power and prestige she had always believed were rightfully her's. But now here she sat under a hostile sky, hands clasped together as she sat in the passenger's seat of a speeder, glancing nervously every now and again at her "chaperone".

Kallus deigned not to look at her, instead focusing on the road as he drove closer and closer to the landing bay.

For now he was her driver. Would he shortly become her executioner?

It was the pointless double talk which really scared her. She knew it was all a lie. So did Kallus. And yet the truth was cloaked in half truths and subtlety. Why persist with this farce?

The speeder came to a halt in front of a small squad of troopers. Would it be death by firing squad, or a simple shot to the back of the head? She wondered. For but an instant the mental image of her being thrown from an airlock into the sun burst to the forefront of her mind.

She felt nauseous. Where were the Rebels?

She emerged from the speeder haltingly, her boots moving as though they were filled with lead.

_"If only."_ She thought ruefully. Part of her wanted to beg and plead for her life there and then, but despite the tremors of fear causing spasms to reverberate through her body, the Minister retained her mental composure (what little was left). She knew instinctively that she still had a part to play, as did Kallus.

And the Rebels._ If they even bother to show up._ She thought. Could it have all been a lie? Could the Rebels have promised her aid, only to reject her behind her back? She could almost imagine them now on their ship having a good laugh at her expense.

NO. No, they would come. She just had to continue with her attempt at keeping up appearances.

"Thank you Agent Kallus." she said, her fear slipping subtly into the words she spoke. "But, there, there was no need for an escort." She looked about her. There were no possible avenues of escape should she attempt to flee. She would be cut down in a hail of blasterfire if that were to occur. It would be better if she went to the Governor to die. At least then she might die with dignity.

Dignity. A pretty word, she supposed, but right now she didn't feel the least bit dignified.

The appropriate word to describe her emotional state was an unusual hybrid of petrified and barely functional.

"Lord Vader asked me to make sure you reached your shuttle safely." Kallus responded easily, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. How he enjoyed her misery! He probably was chomping at the bit, hoping that Tarkin would give him the honor of killing her himself.

He knew she would try to run otherwise. He had cut her off, leaving only one direction for her to go.

Forward.

"I see." she murmured. Despair washed over her as she sank within herself, pondering what few options she had left.

_Where were the Rebels?_

"We can't be too careful with security these days." Translation: We don't want you getting any smart ideas Minister, your fate is sealed.

"Yes, I suppose so." This was it.

"HEY!"

As if shocked by lightning, the Imperials turned as one to look behind them.

The Mandalorian girl!

She was saved!

Panic mingled with joy, relief and hope as she ducked behind a stack of shipping crates, out of the way of incoming blaster bolts. "Minister, take cover!" Kallus ordered while drawing his sidearm.

_"REBELS" _she heard Kallus snarl, his voice twisted with hatred.

From the roof two of her saviors, the boy and the Twi'lek, jumped down and ran to her, covered by a man in Stormtrooper armor. The Jedi, most likely.

"Minister, get to the shuttle! We'll be right behind you!" Bridger said. He was so confident, so alert and aware of his surroundings! How could he be so confident in such a terrifying situation?

With blaster bolts whirring around her the overloaded mind of the Minister was only capable of uttering a single, timid "Right" in acknowledgement.

With all of her strength and energy she sprinted to the shuttle which had once been the beacon of her own doom, now a vessel for her salvation. She was so close! The Jedi and their Rebel friends would whisk her away to safety! She could start over somewhere, somewhere where no one would ever find her.

She had always possessed an ambitious spirit. The Empire may not have allowed her to take her rightful place as a respected leader amongst them, but perhaps she could make something of herself with the Rebels. With her knowledge she would be invaluable. Perhaps she might use that to bargain for a position of authority even. Regardless of what might come, she could salvage this fiasco and come ahead.

Her limbs felt like jelly. Despite her deliverance being at hand, her limbs still shook with terror and threatened to give out. She felt exhausted, she felt dizzy.

_The shuttle was so close._

She scaled the ramp and felt relief, she felt the fear subside...

The tremors stopped.

She felt...she felt...

She felt a wave of fire emanating from in front of her.

She felt shrapnel rip through cloth and flesh.

For but an instant, she became one with a small ball of heat and energy, a tiny star much like the ones that had entranced her when she had been young.

She felt flesh melt and organs liquify. She felt hair and clothing burst into flames.

For but a single instant, she felt pure, unrecognizable agony.

The pain consumed her, mind, body and soul.

And then, in the time it took one to blink an eye, Minister Maketh Tua never felt anything ever again.

Ambition's debt was paid in full.

* * *

I will be posting a final chapter depicting the aftermath of Minister Tua's demise at some point in the near future, focusing on Kallus and Ezra. My deepest condolences to Mallus shippers everywhere.


	5. Memories and Ruminations

**Before I begin I'd like to apologize if anyone has been waiting for this epilogue. Real life got extremely busy and I haven't had much time to write. I'm enjoying a brief lull in my workload, so I thought I'd crank this out after I learned that someone posted a link to this story on the fanfiction recommendation page for Rebels on TV Tropes. Thanks to CommanderVisor for that. Please leave a Review!**

* * *

The sun rose over the Hangar Bay and cast light upon the smoldering wreck of an Imperial shuttle. As technicians and droids sought to clean up the wreckage a solitary figure found himself standing in the center of the hangar, arms folded across his chest. This man had been tasked with supervising the cleanup operation, and he could not help but glower at being forced to remain even a moment longer on that awful planet.

Agent Kallus had learned to loathe Lothal.

He hated practically everything about that wretched backwater world. He hated the environment, he despised having his rise to power and influence within the Imperial Security Bureau disrupted by his reassignment to such an unimportant location, and the people he simply could not abide.

Lothal had originally been the Empire's dumping ground. Because everyone in the galaxy who had ever heard of Lothal (Kallus was certain that it was a very small number) believed it to be an insignificant planet, the Empire had seen fit to maintain the illusion of insignificance by sending some of its more incompetent soldiers to garrison that world while secretly harvesting the resources needed to complete Grand Moff Tarkin's secret project.

Tarkin had been convinced that garrisoning such an insignificant planet with a legion of the Empire's best troops to secure the planets resources would only attract attention to his project, and so the illusion was maintained; a planet everyone considered to be insignificant received insignificant troops and administrators.

Kallus had been in for an extremely rude awakening when he had first arrived on Lothal. The garrison was staffed with some of the most incompetent soldiers he had ever had the displeasure of working with, and their ineptitude made it nearly impossible for the ambitious and career oriented Agent Kallus to accomplish much in the face of the overly prepared Rebels he encountered.

If anything the command staff had been worse. Aresko and Grint were without question some of the most incompetent officers he had ever met. Their bumbling antics might have been comical had not so much been riding on their performance.

However, Kallus found himself more forgiving of their deficiencies than he might otherwise have been. Aresko and Grint were both fools, they could not help their own shortcomings.

No, Kallus saved the majority of his ire for the woman whose corpse was currently being dragged unceremoniously from the wreckage.

Maketh Tua had earned his scorn from the moment he had met her. He had discerned early on that she was intelligent and perceptive, and normally these were traits which he could admire and appreciate in a colleague. However, her few useful elements were subsumed by her narcissism and lack of resolve.

In other words she was a petty coward, happy to manipulate and pull the strings behind the scenes, but unwilling and unable to truly dirty her hands, as Kallus did.

In the Empire advancement required getting one's hands dirty, and this was a lesson that Minister Tua never learned. She lacked the ruthlessness and the bravado a person needed to survive in the cutthroat galaxy they all lived in.

Survival in the Empire meant acting cruelly and ruthlessly while appearing to revel in it. Cruelty towards the Empire's enemies was a sign of loyalty to the New Order, and Kallus, ever a loyal officer, had sought to embrace this.

Once, he had gloated to that Rebel Lasat about how he had orchestrated the devastation of Lasan. Kallus recalled laughing during that exchange. Minister Tua could never cackle like that, she could never find it within herself to exterminate a large group of people, and she could never pretend to take such personal pleasure in the destruction of the enemy.

Kallus could pretend.

He did pretend.

It wasn't supposed to be a massacre. He had been so sure that a demonstration of the weapon's potency would cause the rebelling Lasat to surrender. Shock and Awe, he'd called it. Shortly after the Ion Disruptors' first use the order had come down from the Imerial High Command; no survivors. An example needed to be made to the rest of the galaxy.

Kallus was a good soldier, and good soldiers followed orders.

On occasion he still had nightmares.

How many billions had he condemned to die?

It didn't matter. It had all been worth it. Lasan's pitiful insurrection had been crushed, and the bacillus of rebellion had been driven into remission before it could spread across the galaxy. The Empire and it's security was all that mattered. In a galaxy with millions of inhabited worlds and trillions of citizens held in the Empire's iron grip what was the death of one species?

The Empire brought order and security to the masses and served as the bulwark which protected civilization from anarchy.

If a few billion had to be sacrificed to save hundreds of trillions from chaos then the sacrifice was well worth it to Agent Kallus.

Perhaps that was why he had come to loath Minister Tua. She lacked the spine good Imperials like Kallus needed to keep the Empire secure. Her ambitions for the future were hindered by her lack of resolve.

She had been a coward and ultimately her cowardice had made her into a traitor. She deserved no sympathy. Kallus told himself this again and again. Frankly she had gotten off easy.

A Stormtrooper approached him to make a report. "Sir, the Minister's body has been successfully pulled from the shuttle and placed on a hover gurney. What do you wish us to do with the remains?"

Morbid curiosity overcame the ISB agent. He silently walked over to the gurney, ignoring the Stormtrooper's question, and took the opportunity to see the Minister for the last time.

Kallus could honestly say that he didn't recognize her.

Maketh's blonde hair had been completely burned away in the inferno of the explosion. Her right eye had been completely destroyed, leaving nothing more than an empty socket. The flesh around her right eye had been burned away as well, leaving nothing more than charred bits of skull to be exposed to the morning light. Her clothing and skin had been burnt so badly that he could not say where the clothing ended and the flesh began. The only way that he could discern the corpse's identity was the dented silver shoulder pauldron on her left shoulder.

For a moment Kallus felt himself transported to another place and time. In his mind's eye he saw himself on Onderon with the boys from his first platoon. He saw IX-9432 step on a land mine ahead of him and get blown to fiery pieces. He saw YM-1722 lying on the jungle floor, bits of his brain scattered on a nearby tree. The smell of Tua's roasted flesh reminded him of that jungle hell, his friends smoldering and burning and shrieking all around him. He saw a fierce Lasat mercenary gunning down his men without mercy, even as some of them begged for their lives. They were just out of the academy, they had all been so young.

Kallus had also been so young.

He was woken from his reverie by a loud spitting noise. The Stormtrooper form earlier had taken off his helmet and spat on the ground in contempt.

"Kriffing traitor!" He growled. "Probably going to get a big funeral and a parade even though she sold us out. I hope she rots in hell."

"You seem bitter trooper." Kallus said quietly, his eyes still riveted on the empty eye socket. The trooper had the decency to look somewhat chastened.

"I know that was unprofessional sir, but I can't help it. Traitors really make me angry." He said, glaring disdainfully at Tua's corpse.

"A rational response for a loyal soldier to have." Kallus mused. "But your reaction seems much more personal than would be expected."

The trooper paused, as if wondering how much he should reveal to Kallus. ISB operatives were notorious for holding information against a person. The trooper finally answered.

"I was born here on Lothal sir. I'd thought the Minister was loyal, and admired her for her fervency. I feel like a fool for believing in her."

"I think she was loyal, for a time at least." Kallus said. "But she let her greatest flaw destroy her."

"Sir?" The trooper asked.

Kallus turned to look at the trooper and sneered. "She thought she was important. She thought that she mattered. And ultimately she refused to put the wellbeing of the Empire ahead of her own needs. A good soldier follows orders. The first directive of any servant of the Empire is to do anything to preserve the Emperor's rule. The Minister shirked her duty by letting her head be caught up in the clouds. Her idealism led her to believe that a few committed citizens could change the galaxy. But change requires blood and steel, and she could not imagine resorting to what she thought was barbarity."

"Her weakness made her ineffectual." The Stormtrooper said, nodding his head in agreement. "But it isn't right that a traitor like her should be mourned by the people."

"We are all servants of the Empire." Kallus said. "Even those who stray from the path must be made to serve in whatever capacity they can. By blaming the Rebels for her assassination we have effectively turned the populace against them. The spark of rebellion on Lothal has been suffocated."

"Perhaps on Lothal sir." Said the Stormtrooper. "But the Rebels are still out there, and they'll keep spreading disloyalty to other worlds."

Kallus nodded, and watched as a medic began to push the gurney with Tua's body on it away to a waiting ambulance. She was just another body, thought Kallus. Just another nameless, faceless corpse to be added to the growing mountain of corpses he had created. He frowned at the receding body, and then raised his head towards the sky where the sun was slowly climbing into ascendance.

"This is the Age of the Empire trooper. Our time is now. The Rebels fight for an obsolete past. Let them howl and fight. They cannot stop the sun from rising."

He said this with as much conviction as he could, but a small part of him, something other beings might have called a conscience, wondered just how many Maketh Tua's had to die before the Empire's security would be satisfied.

* * *

Ezra Bridger found himself entranced by the swirling blue vortex of hyperspace as he sat in the nose gun of the _Ghost_. He had always enjoyed quiet moments like these. There was something about hyperspace that was so inviting, so soothing. He felt at times that he could look into the void forever.

Sabine had once told him that there were a dozen old stories told by spacers of men who had gone mad staring into the abyss of hyperspace. He didn't believe them. How could anything so beautiful induce madness?

"How are you holding up Ezra?" A voice called from the hallway. Ezra turned to see Kanan standing at the entrance to the nose gun turret, leaning against the doorway.

Ezra let out a sigh, and turned to face Kanan.

"I've been better. We barely made it out of there, and we wouldn't have been in trouble if I hadn't insisted we go help Minister Tua." Ezra said.

Kanan shook his head. "Don't go beating yourself up about that. You made the right call."

"But Kanan it was a trap!" Ezra said, his voice fraught with frustration. "We played right into the Empire's hand. _I_ played right into their hands. We spent months on Lothal fighting the Empire, and in one day we managed to make everyone hate us and get the Minister killed."

Kanan shook his head. "The truth can't stay hidden Ezra. No matter what the Empire says there are enough people on Lothal who know that we would never just kill a civilian in cold blood, even one as important as Tua. We left because we didn't want to put anyone else on Lothal in danger."

This answer just frustrated Ezra more. "Then why are we fighting?" he asked. "If all we do is just make the Empire come down on the galaxy harder than ever, then what's the point?"

Kanan put his hand on Ezra's shoulder. "A Jedi is only supposed to use the Force for knowledge and defense, never to attack. We fight because the Empire will never negotiate or willingly become less oppressive. We fight to defend the people the Empire oppresses. The Empire's crackdowns show the rest of the galaxy just how vile the Empire is and to what extent they are willing to go in order to hold on to power. That only compels more people to rebel."

Ezra nodded, accepting this explanation. "I just, feel bad, you know?" Ezra said, turning his head back towards the brilliant tunnel of hyperspace in front of him. "It's weird, we spent so much time on opposite sides in this fight, and in just a few days I went from hating Minister Tua to wanting to help her."

Kanan nodded. "Compassion is supposed to be one of the Jedi's most cherished ideals." His face darkened slightly, as though he were remembering something unpleasant. "I always felt that that was something we lost track of in the years before the Clone Wars. But it is only natural that you should feel that. You have a deep connection with other living beings Ezra, so it is natural that you should feel compassion, even when it is toward an enemy."

Ezra developed a very pensive look on his face. "Kanan," He said. "Why do people fight for the Empire? Minister Tua wasn't ruthless like Kallus or evil like the Inquisitor. How many other Imperials are like her, and why would they work for people who were so evil?"

"It's easy for ideals to be corrupted and exploited." Kanan answered. "Palpatine created the Empire so that he could become a dictator with absolute power, but he told the galaxy he was doing it to promote stability and security. He told people he was bringing justice and law to a galaxy torn apart by war. He told people what they wanted to hear, and they were happy to be involved in a government where they thought they were doing good. It's easy for men like the Emperor and Tarkin to cloak their atrocities by putting on an appearance of righteousness. Minister Tua was one of many who fell for it."

"But what if we are forced to fight and kill people working for the Empire who are idealists like the Minister?" Ezra asked, suddenly worried that he might have killed Stormtroopers who were less deserving of death than he had previously believed.

Kanan shook his head in dismissal of such a notion. "The Empire is born of the Darkside Ezra. Do you remember the Sith Lord we just ran into?"

How could Ezra forget? The Sith Lord had been an icy vortex of terror and rage who had put the Inquisitor to shame. Ezra merely nodded.

"The Sith control the Darkside and the Empire alike." Kanan said. "The Darkside corrupts, turning selfless emotions into selfish ones. A good person can serve the Empire for a time Ezra, but if they remain with the Empire they become evil or apathetic to evil. Minister Tua wasn't blameless either. She was the one who tried to illegally buy those Ion Disruptors, and she was the one responsible for people getting evicted from their homes and tossed into places like Tarkintown. She wasn't evil like The Sith Lord or the Inquisitor, but she was power hungry and uncaring."

"She might have changed if she had been able to join us." Ezra suggested.

"Maybe." Said Kanan. "You're right to look for the good in people Ezra, but be mindful to avoid naivete as well. In either case, there is no point in dwelling on what might have been. Keep your focus on the present, my young apprentice."

Ezra rolled his eyes and smirked at that. "Why do I get the feeling you stole that from somewhere?"

Kanan smiled as well. "A good teacher knows when and where to appropriate certain ideas into his lessons. Now come on, Commander Sato wants us to attend a strategy briefing."

Ezra let out a small laugh at that.

"Ah, the exciting life of a Rebel!"


End file.
